


A Place of Surprise

by Vana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, M/M, Same as it ever was ..., Shamelessly shippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-23 15:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/928249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/pseuds/Vana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was only one retreat, and he would not allow himself to go there very often. It was a cool clean haven, with an underlying heat that warmed him to his bones. There was only one place Stannis could ever find peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place of Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> LJ Kinkmeme prompt was: "Stannis sleeps with Selyse to to perform his duty as a husband. Neither of them particularly enjoys it, and it's usually a quick, mechanical affair. With Melisandre, sex is the means to an end. Stannis isn't one to indulge in much of anything, but whenever he takes Davos to bed he lets his knight take care of him. Basically, I'd love to read some gentle sex between those two, with lots of touching and kissing if you want to make me extra happy."
> 
> I wrote this in late February and a lot of it is now repetitive from "Elemental" because I took parts of it that I liked and adapted it. But hopefully it's still different enough to enjoy -- especially for whosever prompt this was!

**Part I**

The day had been long and exhausting. Nothing especial or out of the ordinary had happened but it was full of the usual tensions and pitched battles of will and politics. Stannis Baratheon leaned back against the stone and felt the relief of the cold wall on his head and neck, the blessed quiet.

On top of the high lords and hedge knights and sycophants, the Lady Selyse had come to him with her own petitions. She had requests, which were more like orders, regarding her family and its hangers-on. He had had no heart to tell her no, especially after she summoned the shrill and desperate tone that he learned to dread, but the acquiescence left a bad taste in his mouth.

And then had come the Lady Melisandre, whose demands were equally strident but far more dire. She needed blood, she needed fuel for the fire. Were there heretics in the dungeon? Any sturdy ones, any with extra heft to their bodies? No, he had snapped, they had all been starved. Gods, it was enough to make him ill if he thought of it. But the battle must continue.

There was only one retreat, and he would not allow himself to go there very often. It was a cool clean haven, with an underlying heat that warmed him to his bones. There was only one place Stannis could ever find peace.

He called his squire Devan, and bade him to send his father to him. Not ten minutes later Davos Seaworth came alone, quiet steps on the hard floor soothing Stannis already.

“Your Grace,” Davos said, bowing his head briefly and lowering his eyes before flashing up to Stannis’ face again. 

“Davos.” Stannis beckoned him closer. The roles of king and councilor were reversed and Stannis became the supplicant. His voice fell to almost a whisper. “I have need of you.” There was no need for elaboration, or more words to confuse or be overheard.

Davos’ face widened into a genuine smile that warmed Stannis. “Then come to me tonight,” he said, just as low. He briefly leaned over the table and laid his hand on Stannis’ shoulder, sweeping it down Stannis’ arm and unleashing a flood of sensation and anticipation even through all the layers of wool and leather. There was nothing like this, Stannis thought. No woman or man, nor even a victory on the battlefield, could simultaneously inflame and calm him like the simplest touch from Davos. Nightfall could not come quickly enough.

 

**Part II**

The castle was silent, all the Queen’s men finally asleep in their clothes or their wine cups, Selyse snoring in her chamber, Melisandre gone to do the gods knew what kind of sorcery or fire-gazing. Stannis grew ever more tense as he made his way to Davos’ quarters, wary of anyone who might have need of him or think they did, prepared to cut down anyone in his way. He strode faster, careful to keep his steps quiet.

He hadn’t known he was holding his breath until he reached his destination, leaning against the closed door behind him. He heard Davos’ quiet voice from the simple bed, in the darkest corner of the room. “Your Grace. You have come,” he said, but there was a hint of laughter behind the formal address. Stannis scowled — he would not be the object of ridicule — but the next minute Davos was sitting up, holding out his hand in invitation, and as Stannis hesitated Davos laid him gently down to the bed. 

Davos held Stannis down by the shoulders for a moment, gazing into his face as if to assess or appraise before leaning down and brushing their lips together — just the briefest touch but enough to electrify Stannis. He reached up for Davos and pulled his head back down, opening his mouth willingly under Davos’. He felt Davos tracing his tongue around the outline of his lips; it was a teasing, tickling thing, but it promised more and Stannis shivered despite the bedclothes. Impatient, he wrapped his arms around Davos and pulled him in tighter. 

As their kiss deepened Stannis felt himself relaxing by degrees, with Davos, his smell, his voice, warm all around him. Davos seemed reluctant when he pulled himself away and looked down at Stannis again. 

“What has happened?”

Stannis sighed. “Nothing has happened at all. They all want something, though” — there was no need to say who — “all but you, Davos.”

Davos slipped his hand beneath the nape of Stannis’ neck, sliding the fingers up into his hair before coming down to kiss him once more. Just above Stannis’ lips Davos murmured, the words nearly indistinct: “But I may want something as well.”

 

**Part III**

It could have been hours later — Stannis had lost track of time as Davos ran warm and sure hands over his naked skin, kneading and calming his tension — and the candle by the bedside was guttering when Davos stilled and pulled away, leaving Stannis straining toward his hands again. Davos looked down at him, and in the faint light his eyes betrayed a fondness Stannis rarely saw. Stannis closed his eyes, basking in that gaze even as his body cried out for more. Then Davos was kissing him all over again, setting his skin on fire with lips and tongue, and Stannis could not suppress his groan when Davos lowered his head. His hands crawled into Davos’ hair and he felt his own lax muscles tense again as he sighed in bliss and surrender. Davos’ beard brushed his inner thigh, and Stannis felt his toes tingle and curl into the bedclothes.

Too soon Davos released him, and when he spoke his voice was roughened by desire. “Stannis,” he said, dropping all pretense of titles, “I am yours.” 

The words and the fevered tone rushed to Stannis’ head like strong wine. He could not answer, but let his body speak for him, sitting suddenly and turning Davos, willing and fluid, onto his stomach beneath him. With trembling hands he wet his fingers in his mouth and slipped them gently inside Davos, who shuddered violently under his ministrations. Stannis had learned the language of Davos’ body well enough that he knew this was all to the good, and bared his teeth in a smile against Davos’ shoulder as he slowly slid inside.  

The sound Davos made at this almost was too much for Stannis. He forced himself to stay still, to let their breathing come back together and their shivers subside. When they began to move again it was paradoxically almost peaceful, the sparking sensations familiar in their way, the heat and contact leading Stannis inevitably to a grateful release. 

Then Davos shifted beneath him, arching his hips up toward him, setting fire to Stannis in completely different ways. He moaned savagely, forgetting himself and all his previous restraint, and grasped Davos around the waist: he was at sea once more, drowning in the sensation and unable to come up for air. Blindly groping he wrapped a hand around Davos and was rewarded with a strangled whimper and a sudden spasm. His eyes were closed, but behind them he saw lightning flash across his vision, then blur into a bright swirl. Bracing his knees and feet on the bed, holding Davos tight against him as though his life depended on their closeness, Stannis drew in a breath, let it out in a shuddering cry, and moved them both together.

 

**Part IV**

Davos cradled Stannis in his arms after they could breathe again, stroking Stannis’ jaw and forehead and resting his lips in Stannis’ hair. They had no need to speak. He knew Davos would not let him stay overlong, he knew he would see him back to his chambers and his duty before he was missed, and he knew the next day in council Davos would give no sign of what had passed.  

Only when they were by themselves would Davos watch Stannis from under hooded eyelids, a hint of a spark in his gaze, and that alone would cause Stannis’ mind to go blank for a moment, remembering. He let himself go limp and languid in his knight’s arms. Hovering on the edge of sleep, he could imagine the words forming from Davos’ rising and falling chest, his even heartbeat: “I am yours, I am yours, I am yours.”


End file.
